Saturday, February 15, 2014

The Things We Did

I spent a couple of nights
recently performing intimate acts upon a life-sized doll in front of a room
full of strangers. When I was done I sat down and somebody else rose to take my
place.

In this way we all got a
turn with her.

We even paid money for this
"opportunity".

This is not a
party where people know your name. But everybody knew her
name: Annie.

Resusci-Annie they called
her. She wasn't much to look at, but she has helped start more hearts than
candy, flowers, Cupid, and tequila combined. Yes folks, C.P.R. classes are
going on, right in your neighborhood!

In six hours, over two
nights

You'll be lectured by a grinning instructor (the smile comes from
knowing what you will soon be doing),

Write down a lot of numbers
(because nobody like a heart attack victim blown up like a balloon),

And you will aggressively
kiss an immobile, unspeaking mannequin (no worse than a blind date really).

Wear comfortable clothes.
Bring a pen, a kiss, and your humility.

My group was taught by an emergency
room intern, and no job will give you a more ghoulish database from which to
elucidate.

So along with the movements and numbers we learned some fascinating
factoids about lacerations, blood, boogers, vomit, severed limbs,
electrocution, and something horrible called a "fingersweep".

No faces in the photos.Its an unwritten rule.

The most important thing we
learned was this: You're going to screw it up. You may get to second base with
Annie, but 6 years from now, when some doghouse-shaped person looks up from his
burger and fries and realizes that his pulse has taken the afternoon off, when
he does a quick bossa nova and sinks slowly to the linoleum like a Madonna video, when you finally get
a chance to ventilate and compress! - you'll blow it. Time lapsed and adrenalin
will conspire to turn you into an irish setter.

So the first thing you do
is get someone to call 911. Then you lay them down, tilt their head back and
try to remember some of the moves. In reality though your job is to 'not kill
them' until the pros arrive. 90 minutes of foreplay with Resusci-Annie will not
enable you to cheat Death. But perhaps you'll be able to annoy Death long enough.

Besides our own inevitable
ineptitude we learned other things:

Practicing the Heimlich
maneuver is a novel way of meeting people.

Imagining an artery slowly
filling up with fat until your blood decides to just pull over for the night is
a great way to start choosing salads.

You can find a pulse just
below your ear, below the bicep, on the top of your foot, or seemingly anywhere
your hand drops. Its a very vulnerable feeling.

Performing the Heimlich on
a child will cause the child to turn inside out. Instead turn the kid over and
whap it, like your cleaning the toaster.

I took the class because of
guilt; simple as that. Picture a loved one, or any human being (or animal)
dying and knowing that you might've been able to save them, Ick. I'll pay
$20.00 to shut my conscience up.

Also, you just might be a
hero. Fancy that: pictures in the papers, interviews, cheers, parades, perhaps
a cash 'thank you', attractive people wanting to ventilate you and have you
compress them...

Yes, She was the inspiration for "Smooth Criminal".I'll wager that this does not really surprise you.

Among those who were there
those dark nights in the Rec. Center there is now the silent camaraderie of
group embarrassment. After all, we basically were playing Barbies.

Now we nod
slowly to one another in crowds. We exchange shy smiles across intersections.
We do our two-fingers-below-the-ear salute as we pass on the mall. We are
invisible, but we are everywhere.

With ourselves we are
proud. The world may not understand us or the things we did those nights, but
sometime, somewhere, if your heart suddenly hangs out a 'for rent' sign, you'll
probably be glad we were there.

So thank you Annie - you
are the most ethical slut of all.

Angus McMahan

angusmcmahan@gmail.com

@AngusMcMahan

(Photos from Author's left hand, laurenslatestblog.com and positivelymichael.com)

Buy my DVD!

About Angus

angusmcmahan@gmail.com

(831) 431-0636

Angus is a carbon-based, bipedal, ape-descended life form who has evolved his thumb-laden hands into two specialties: Writing stuff, and whapping on things in a rhythmical manner.

The rest of his hairy arms are now good at swimming. His legs have been running and pedaling bicycles for decades. And his enormous cranium seems to be engaged mostly in getting sunburned, playing video games, and yelling at the Giants on his TV.